screen) which displays whatever is dear to the viewer's heart.

Sasirekha naturally sees Abhimanyu and Balarama gets to see his sishya, Duryodhana on it. His wife laps up the sight of an array of jewellery and the audience laughed heartily because they knew that someone back home was equally attached to the riches.

When Balarama curtly tells his sister, " Subhadra! Aagadalu, aghaayityalu naaku paniki raavu", when he was confronted with the latter's indignation at his decision to separate Sasirekha and Abhimanyu , womenfolk among the viewers sighed recalling their own tribulations in the hands of such brothers.

Frame after frame impacts viewers with similarities. The greatness of the director lies here- he successfully reduces all characters to ordinary mortals displaying all the follies of human beings except Ghatothkacha and Krishna. And then he injects into the Yadava household a Telugu atmosphere, full with its simile, imagery, adage, sarcasm and wit.

The result — a feast for the eyes and soul. That is Maya Bazaar for you. Mind you, this is a story of Paandavas and Kauravas with the Yadavas pitching in. But one never sees the Paandavas throughout the film. We only hear of them.

If any NRI asks you to suggest ways to teach Telugu culture just ask him or her to introduce them to Maya Bazaar first. Further, if they seek to know about their uncles, aunts and cousins back home, bring in their names , “look, this is your Balarama…”

Any better way of doing it?

Then onwards it's all Laahiri, laahiri, laahiri lo…